#like the beginning was so bad i was like it cant get worse and i was right but it stayed bad | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrswint3rs · 12 days

Text

“If I gotta sin to see her again then I’m gonna lie.”

pairings - dad’s boss krauser x fem! reader

summary- you end up on your knees for the stranger you allowed into your house while your father was away, not knowing he was your fathers boss.

content / warnings: unrealistically fast paced (cant help it), 99% smut, age gap (r! is in her 20’s, Krauser is in his 40’s), krauser is a major douche (at least in the beginning), quick bj, gagging, head shoving, mentions of power play, implied that reader is inexperienced, heavy d/s dynamics, mentions of sending nudes, lots of sneaking around & secret relationship, brief pussy tasting (??), use of sir, rough & unprotected sex, forced creampie, praise and degradation, random cut off because i was about to have another 2 week long meltdown and just want to be done !! (seriously sorry)

wc. 2.1k

a/n- title from rev 22:20 (don’t shoot the messenger version) by puscifer. sorry for taking forever!! my mental wellbeing has not been.. well. if this is shit, pretend its not :3 wanted to make it long but i feel like i shouldn’t have 😭 feedback PLZZZ… can’t tell if im getting better or worse atp.

The moment that front door swung open and you laid your eyes upon the man, everything in you changed. A gruff face greeted you, devoid of any readable emotion. He was honestly scary as shit at first. Had those cold eyes that looked like they’d seen everything. You just froze in the doorway staring, not bothering to be subtle with your ogling. He had a presence about him that demanded every ounce of your attention.

“Your dad home?” he eventually questions after the clearing of his throat. “Assuming you’re the brat he’s always braggin’ about.” Right. Your father. Of course he was here for your father.

The words you try to form almost die in your throat. “He’s uhm…at the store right now but you can come back later or something… Might be a while.” you stammer out. But the man simply brushes past you, welcoming himself to your home.

“No. I’ll wait here.”

He sinks into the couch, propping his shoes up on the table. Not a care in the world. Snatched up the remote and switched it off the channel you were watching prior to his visit.

Who the hell was this entitled motherfucker? And why was he so adamant on staying?

“No shoes in the house,” you reply meekly. He doesn’t budge. Just looks at you with that deadpan expression again as if you pissed him off greatly. Makes your stomach churn.

“Take em’ off for me then.”

Silence fills the room. The audacity of this asshole to reply to you like that. He looks down at you expectedly. The corner of his mouth twitching upward into a half-smirk. There was a certain smugness to him that angered you to your core. For some reason turned you on.

But you weren’t one to say no to people. Too afraid of angering them. Especially since you didn’t know his importance to your father. Maybe he got mixed up in some bad shit. This dude didn’t seem like the type to be buddy buddy with anyone, let alone your dad.

Hesitant, you kneel down, taking the time to unlace his boot. He raises an eyebrow, amused by the fact that you didn’t even question.

He enjoys a little power play, especially with an obedient thing like you. He could easily get addicted to it. You had that cowering look that he so craved. That look made him want to break you.

Your hands shake, fumbling to untie the second knot. “Good girl.” He coos. Your cheeks burn hot with humiliation and something else entirely. Something that’s a little too appealing.

He was a man of few words, but when he did speak, you damn near hung on every syllable. His eyes are narrowed into slits, studying you with great interest. He takes in every little detail, watching your every move intently as if you were giving him a private show. The pressure of his gaze makes you forget what you’re doing. You knew you didn’t have to listen to him, but you were. And you’d do whatever he told you to.

Which is what led to the ache in your knees and jaw. Before that day, you’d never experienced one of those ‘it just happened’ scenarios. Sexual acts didn’t ‘just happen’. They were planned, thought out. Not true at all it seemed. You weren’t thinking at all, couldn’t even remember what led you to gagging up and down on this strangers cock. It just happened. First blowjob and it was for this random douche who barged into your house.

A hand grips the back of your head, guiding you, forcing you to take him deeper. “Use your tongue, doll. Like I told you.” he grunts, shoving you back down again. You try. Failing miserably to lick along his length. Your throat constricts around him and he doesn’t cut you any slack, using it as his personal flesh-light.

“Keep suckin’ i’m not through with you.” You’re a drooling, crying mess. Just what he adores. “Make me cum.” he loosens his grip, letting you finish up on your own. But the second you try to come up to catch your breath, he shoves you back down. “Not done til’ i’m done, understand?”

Attempting to nod your head, you resume bobbing up and down on his length. Trying to ignore the cramp in your neck. You wanted it to end quickly. Not because your father was expected to arrive home soon. But because you wanted the man to tell you that you did good for him.

Focusing more on the head of his cock, your hand grips and twists along the rest, using your spit as lube. You weren’t at all confident in your abilities, but it seemed to work magic on him.

Without warning, he releases his sticky white ropes of cum into your mouth, cock twitchy and red. “Swallow for me. Lemme see… open that pretty little mouth.”

His hand cups your jaw, beefy fingers prying your lips apart to make sure you did as you were ordered. A look of satisfaction crosses his face and he lets you go. “Good girl. Now run along and get yourself cleaned up.”

Only then were you able to ground yourself. What a mess you were. Hair disheveled and face soaked in a combination of tears and drying slobber, a pool of need between your thighs.

He works to refasten his belt after pulling his pants back up. So casual like that didn’t happen. Like he does this all the time.

And you still didn’t even know his name. Didn’t know how he knew yours. Not until your dad got back from the store, multiple bags of groceries in hand. When he sees the man, he both lights up and dims down.

“Krauser… Hope my daughter was good company? Sorry for the wait.”

“Sure was,” he replies simply and a feeling of dread washes over you and you fight the urge to run and hole yourself up in your room as soon as possible.

Krauser. You’d heard that name before. Many times. That same name your father cursed when he got home from work every day. Krauser. Your father’s boss.

You told yourself that’d be the last time you’d see him. That what happened would never again be brought up and you’d forget it ever happened.

Safe to say it was only the start.

The first time was difficult. Your thumb hovered over that send button for at least twenty minutes before you finally just said fuck it and sent it. Had you burying your face into your pillow, heart racing like you were on the verge of a heart attack. Not like you sucked his dick just two weeks ago or anything. Somehow this was more nerve racking.

Quickly you learned, bra and panty pics earned you bulge pics. Tit pics earned you full dick pics. And moaning into the phone for him?

That earned a visit.

“Open your window for me.” he texts, and you hurry to do so. You pace around in circles, wondering if he’s just screwing around. Why would a grown ass man go through these hoops?

Seems he was as desperate for you as you were for him.

The second he climbs through, you open your mouth to speak and his hand clasps over it, burly arm pushing you against the wall. His eyes stare daggers into your widened ones as if trying to shrink you down in size.

“Quietly, and quickly, you’re gonna get on that bed and undress for me.” he removes his hand, backing off to undo his belt.

No time to spare it seems. As soon as your clothes are off, he’s on you. In an instant, your wrists are pinned above your head, thighs pulled apart revealing the pooling mess between them. His cock lays heavy against your stomach as he drinks you in, an almost crazed look etched onto his face.

He rubs his length through your folds, getting a feel of your warmth and he has to fight back his groans. He smacks it against your clit, watching as your face contorts. Looks real pretty to him, but he’d never grant you the privilege of hearing that.

The head of his cock probes at your entrance, teasing its way in and making you clench around nothing when it’s removed. “Don’t tell me, you’re a virgin?” he cocks a brow.

“No..n-no, sir. I’m not.”

“Good. Don’t need to worry about going easy on ya’..”

Without warning, he fills you all the way, drawing out a whine from your lips. He starts to roll his hips, slowly at first, before picking up pace, skin slapping loudly against yours. You cry out, in pain or ecstasy? He can’t tell. Just knows it’s a danger to be this noisy and he wasn’t going to sacrifice his pleasure simply because you couldn’t take him. Again, his hand clasps over your mouth, muffling your sweet cries as he continues to roughly rut into you.

“Wanna get caught, hm?” he asks, shooting a warning glare down at you. You rapidly shake your head no, blinking back the tears that sting your eyes. “Then be a good girl, and keep your fucking mouth shut.”

Hypocrite. He’s groaning and grunting up a storm, getting lost in the feeling of being inside you. You can tell by the way his face scrunches up all ugly that he’s already close. Every thrust, your headboard hits the wall. The wall separating your room from your father’s.

Krauser feels himself nearing his end, beginning to pull out. But you wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him inside. He has no strength left, his warm, white ropes spurt into you, seemingly having no end. Your walls contract around him, completely milking him for all he has.

His breaths come out, hot and husky against your sweat glistening skin. And he looks like he’s on the verge of passing out.

“You on birth control?” he mumbles out, trying to bring himself back to reality. When you confirm, he lets out a heavy sigh of relief and is able to relax his heart rate a bit.

That is, until you both hear the sound of the floor creaking outside of your bedroom in the hallway.

He’s quick to pull his pants back up, and take his leave. But he stops a moment, leaning down to whisper into the shell of your ear. “I’ll text you. I’ll get us a reservation soon.” His lips press to the side of your cheek, lingering a second or two before he rushes out.

Less than 24 hours after, and you receive a phone call, informing you of where to meet him. You feel a but guilty, knowing he’s given your father more hours just so you can get away with this while he’s away at work. But this isn’t something you’d give up easily.

You beat him there, first to get the keys to the room reserved for two. It’s a pretty decent place, not the type you see in those movies where they’re having an affair. Krauser was head of a corporation, after all. Of course he was loaded.

The key twists along with the doorknob and you let yourself into the room. Spacious for only one bed. Almost the size of a studio apartment. Well, not quite that big. But still impressive.

You flop down on the bed, taking your shoes, socks and everything else off. You were ready this time. You lie naked on the bed, confident in waiting for him.

The knob twists again, and your confidence is instantly revoked, replaced with that nervous feeling once more. You shame yourself for it, but that’s what he liked about you anyway.

“I’m off for the rest of the day, sweetheart.” his hands work at unlooping the tie around his neck as he makes his way toward the bed in the middle of the room. He sees you waiting, and the blood immediately rushes down south. His pants start to feel a tad too tight. Suffocatingly tight.

Something about you simply made him weak. He couldn’t control himself, and nor could you. You could see the hunger in his eyes. The way he looked at you was like a starved wolf, about to trap its prey between its teeth.

“Waitin’ long?” he grins, removing the rest of his restraints. “I promise, I’ll make sure it’s worth all the trouble.”

His hands pry your legs apart, and his face lowers to your cunt. His nose nudges your clit, his tongue teasing your opening. “So wet already… been thinking about me?”

#jack krauser x reader #jack krauser smut #jack krauser #resident evil krauser #resident evil x reader smut #resident evil x reader #fem reader

156 notes · View notes

beenbaanbuun · 2 months

Note

Hey Bunny! I hope you’re doing well <3 so I got this thing with that one interview Hongjoong and Mingi did during his Halazia hair phase.. he looked so damn good with the styling and outfit and the ROSARY 😫 I was wondering if you would be open to the idea of Priest!Mingi and assistant reader, Mingi degrading the reader when she confesses that she thinks of a certain someone in an unholy way. MEAAAN dom Mingi, punishing her for the way she looks at him during service and being told of such sinful things by his assistant. anyway! Thank you so much <3

warnings - priest!mingi, sex in church, oral (m!recieving), throat fucking, degredation, mean dom! mingi, oh god i’m going to hell…

so idk if any of you have seen fleabag but hot priest!mingi is not something i knew i needed until now.

like i’m just thinking about the whole confession scene where fleabag ends up on her knees in front of him, and whilst the hot priest has it in him to walk away, i just know mingi does not.

because for all his talk of being a holy man, this man knows deep down that he is nothing but a slut. perhaps he thought becoming a priest would cure him of his sexual cravings, but instead the abstinence just made it all worse. especially when you started working in his place of worship. such a pretty thing willing to do anything he asks for? you’re sent by the devil as a temptation, he’s sure of it.

the way you look at him during service only proves his theory. how you sit there with your lips agape, practically begging for him to shove something between them, and the way you clench your thighs whenever he speaks to the congregation; it all works against him, reverting him back to the depraved man he was before becoming holy.

so when the two of you end up in the confession booth one evening, he can’t help but hold his breath in anticipation. he prays to his god that he has the courage to power through whatever it is you’re going to tell him. he prays for the ability to control himself, and promises to make up for his sins in any way he can. for a moment, he thinks it’s enough, but then you start talking, and just your voice is enough the make his dick jump in his pants. that’s when he knows for certain you were sent by the devil.

“forgive me father for i have sinned,” you mutter, breath bated as you wait for him to respond. this is a bad idea, you tell yourself. getting horny every time mingi steps into a room is bad enough, but telling him about it feels so much dirtier. perhaps you should keep it a secret; take it to the grave. beg for forgiveness at st. peters gate.

“tell me your sins,” mingi responds, voice breathy. it’s enough to send your mind stumbling into that dark place again. you thought church to be a holy place, so why did you feel more at kin with the devil right now.

“i’ve been having… thoughts, father,” you begin, “sinful thoughts. thoughts i shouldn’t be having outside of wedlock.”

mingi sucks in a breath, tipping his head back until it hats the back of his side of the confession booth. the thud makes you jump in place, but no more so than the noise that follows. a low grunt that seems to echo through the booth. images of what he could be doing in there fill your brain, and you desperately try to shun them away.

“and who are you having these thoughts about?” you’re sure that behind his gravelly voice you can hear the sound of a zipper. you cant help but let your mind spiral even further as images of the man, sweaty with cock in hand, fill your brain. you struggle to hold in the whimper that crawls up your throat.

“you, father,” you whisper, feeling nothing but ashamed of your confession, “i have these thoughts about you.”

silence follows, eerie and daunting. you cant blame him for that; it must be a shock to find out his assistant has been thinking about doing unholy things with him. you can’t help but feel immeasurable guilt for thinking about him in that way, and perhaps you were right when you pondered just taking it to the grave. his silence doesn’t help soothe your concerns in the slightest.

but then the curtain before you is ripped open, and mingi stands before you looking like sin itself. his black shirt is wide open to reveal the smooth skin of his chest. his zipper - you knew you’d heard it - is open, making space for his hand to palm at his boxer-clad crotch. you swallow down your drool as you look into his eyes; dark and menacing as he stares into your soul.

“get on the floor,” he spits. you quickly shuffle off of the bench, dropping to your knees before him. you watch as his thumb circles the wet patch on his boxers, a guttural moan exiting his plush lips as he digs his thumb in slightly. it’s a sight to behold, the way he bites into his bottom lip and scrunches his face up in pleasure. you can’t look away.

“fucking slut,” he pants to himself as he hurries to push his trousers and boxers down past his hips. his dick bounces as it’s freed from its material cage, and upon seeing it you moan. long and hard and thick and everything you’ve ever dreamed of it being. you want to crawl forwards to take a closer look, but before you can, mingi takes a step forward.

his cock it eye level now, and you can’t help but study it. the perfect pink mushroom tip that drips pearlescent liquid from its slit. the silken skin that covers the shaft, glistening with sweat as the dim lights from the confessional booth shine down upon it. the thick vein that runs from his sack to the top, throbbing as it begs for your touch.

“father,” you whisper, looking up at his face with wide eyes.

“what is it, slut?” he spits down at you, “tell me what you want.”

you glance to his dick before looking up at him again. he chuckles darkly, “where has that slutty little tongue gone?” he taunts, “you seemed to have no problem telling me about your sinful thoughts a minute ago, yet now you can’t even tell me what you want? perhaps you’re dumber than i gave you credit for.”

you open your mouth to say something, but clamp it shut when you can’t find the words. mingi just tuts at you from where he stands, waiting impatiently for you to say something.

“please, father,” you feel your face heat up at you stumble over your words, “please may i touch you?”

he scoffs.

“touch me?” a hand grabs your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks in a way that makes your lips pucker. there’s bound to be red crescents on your face, left by his fingernails that show no mercy, digging in to the point where it makes you wince, “you think i’d let a whore like you touch me?”

you whine.

“pathetic,” he grunts as he lets you go. you can’t find the courage to move your hands to massage at your aching jaw. you let it hurt as he presses his fingers to your lips, forcing themselves into your mouth to pull down your bottom jaw. when it’s completely slack, he let’s go and steps closer yet again, “you’re going to pay for what you’ve done, little girl. just sit there and take it, and maybe if you please me, we can talk about your forgiveness.”

he waits to see if you’ll close your mouth, but you don’t. you want this.

and with that, he presses and hand to the back of your head and forces his dick into your mouth, pushing it forward until it hits a barrier at the back of your throat. you choke, but he doesn’t pull back. he just lets it sit there, effectively gagging you until there are tears pooling up in the corners of your eyes and drool threatening to cascade down your chin.

his face is stony as he stares you down, watching you struggle for air so prettily. he pulls back briefly, taking a little mercy on you before pushing back in just as hard as the first time. you barely have time to gasp for air before it’s ripped away from you once again.

he pushes in further, feeling your tight throat clench around his cock and he almost cums on the spot. so warm and wet and tight around him that he can’t help but cry out in pleasure as he pulls back once more.

you’re grateful as he lets you take in a few breaths before delving in once again, this time thrusting messily back and forth. you gag every time he hits your uvular, but it doesn’t seem to deter him. it only eggs him on, driving him to go harder and faster with every single thrust.

he’s close, he realises as he feels you try to swallow around him. your face is already a mess with spit and tears, but he can’t help but feel like you’ll look even prettier with his cum painting your face too.

he pulls out completely, thrusting into his fist a couple of times. the dam breaks quicker than he expected, and the white spurts of liquid that erupt from his tip fall perfectly on your face. you close your eyes just in time for some to land on your eyebrow, dripping down to mix with the tears that have yet to stop flowing.

“pretty little slut,” he hums once he’s finished cumming, and his cock begins to soften in his grasp. he chuckles, “go clean your face up, okay? you have five minutes before i come looking; i want a taste of that slutty little hole next.”

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #mingi hard thoughts #mingi hard hours

167 notes · View notes

tomriddleslove · 3 months

Text

Pt 3 - Always.

Theodore Nott x Reader

Pt 2 here

Summary: The one where the anticipated week long holiday between the friendship group turns into a certified nightmare. Alternatively: You accidentally end up rooming with Theodore.

A/N: WE’VE ENTERED THE HOLIDAY PART AND I CANT WAIT FOR WHERE THIS IS GOING TO GO WOOOOHHH

I promise the angst will eventually subside (eventually.)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Songs: I know you - Faye Webster

I wait for you - Alex G

By some miracle, you had all managed to get through the weeks leading up to the summer holidays and were due to travel to Pansy’s family home today. The monotony of pouring over books, frantically rummaging through essays you had written on scrolls of parchment looking for your notes had finally paid off, and exams were done. Pansy had been raving on and on about just how beautiful the quaint villa was (which seemed to be a bit of a juxtaposition) , and how they'd all have a great time. Whilst you did look forward to it, you were reminded of who would be there.

Theodore.

After that conversation in the library, things had gone from worse to even worse. In some cruel twist of fate, you seemed to see Theodore everywhere now, yet his increased presence seemed only to solidify just how much of a gap there was between the two of you.

Spending a week together both seemed terrifying and cruelly humorous. A kind of plot from a shitty rom-com, though you doubted it would turn out for the better.

The once lively (arguably messy) dorm room you shared with Pansy was now barren and bare, your belongings packed away as you waited for Pansy to finish…

Tapping the walls?

“Pans, what on earth are you doing?” You ask, and she continues knocking on random places on the wall, letting out a groan of frustration.

“I swear I had it hidden somewhere! I refuse to let some snotty little 6th-year find it.” She grumbles.

“What the fuck are you looking for? Maybe if you told me it would be a bit easier.” You respond exasperatedly, nearing your wits ends.

“My weed! I kept a stash hidden somewhere when we first came but I've been leeching off Enzo! Now I can't find it!” She huffs, throwing her arms up exasperatedly. You roll your eyes and resist the urge to slap her upside the back of her head.

“You idiot, I packed that away.” You snap, and she furrows her brows.

“What? When?” She says, and you begin to wonder whether you should even bother.

“Merlin Pansy, is your memory that bad? You asked me to take it.” You chide. Her look of confusion merges into a sheepish smile.

“Oh… Thanks!” She says, beaming as she slings her bag over her shoulder.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time as you lug your bags downstairs.

“Finally.” Draco proclaimed, ushering the attention of the group as they looked up to see you and Pansy descending. Blaise immediately goes over to take Pansy's suitcase, and she looks up at him with a bashful smile.

Woah.

What?

You raise a brow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. Lorenzo comes over to help you with your trunks, and he leans closer to you.

“You're seeing it too, right? Smitten with one another.” He whispers.

“Since when? She was flirting with Belby about a week or so ago.” you say, raising a brown.

“Exactly. Notice how Blaise wasn't there? He left for a reason.” Lorenzo gushes, as though you both were 12 and at a sleepover. You giggle lightly.

“Wanna bet on when they'll get together?” You offer, and Lorenzo nods.

“Easy. They're both too damn stubborn to confess so I bet it’ll be after the trip.” He says.

You let out a loud laugh, and they all turn to look at you and Lorenzo. Pansy raises a brow, but you're looking elsewhere. Theodore looks over at you, and how Lorenzo is leaning close to you. He has to tear his eyes away, and he swallows harshly.

It was incredible how one person could change your mood so quickly.

Stupid, really, just how much one person could affect you. You clear your throat and turn back to Lorenzo.

“I bet they'll get together during the trip. 5 Galleons?” You ask, holding out your hand. Lorenzo eyes you suspiciously, then shakes your hand.

“Deal.” He says, and a wicked grin graces your face.

“Great. That means I can do this then.” You say, walking over to Pansy and Blaise.

“Pans, can you be a dear for me? I want to room with Lorenzo, so can you room with Blaise instead please?” You plead.

Blaise raises a brow and Pansy looks at you with a pointed glare

You were helping her (and perhaps yourself).

“Isn’t Loren-” Blaise starts but you quickly cut him off.

“Please, pansy?” You say, your voice strained. You really wanted those 5 galleons. Pansy is nervous but somehow also, you can tell she’s excited. You're probing her onwards, and with a shy smile (Once again, so out of character for her), she accepts.

“Alright- only if you don't mind, Blaise?” She says, looking up at him.

He grins as he looks down at her and you watch the two with an amused look on your face.

Hopeless, really. You give it a day or two before they're together.

“Of course.” He agreed.

Damn, you were good. With a cheeky grin, you turn back to Lorenzo and wiggle your eyebrows. You had the win in the bag. You leave the two and walk back to Lorenzo, grinning as you approach him.

“Don't hate the player, hate the game” You brag, and Lorenzo has to suppress a smile.

“Good Job. You forgot one thing though, sweetheart. I’m sharing a room with Mattheo.” Lorenzo quips, and your expression drops.

“What? Pansy said-” You protest, and Lorenzo laughed.

“Yeah, originally I was sharing a room with Draco. But Draco demanded his own room because he refused to share and Mattheo ended up with me instead.” He continues.

It takes a second for the gears in your head to turn, and then you realise.

If there are 4 bedrooms, and Blaise and Pansy are in one, Mattheo and Lorenzo in the other, Draco on his own in the third, that leaves you and...

Theodore.

You were going to strangle the life out of the greasy blonde-haired git. Damn him and his scrawny little princess ass.

You suddenly feel very sick. Perhaps you should stay in Hogwarts. Summer with Snape sounds riveting now, doesn't it?

You take a deep breath, trying to hide your disappointment, but Lorenzo sees right through you and bursts into laughter.

"Looks like the game just got a whole lot more interesting, huh?" he teases, patting you on the back. You shoot him a mock glare, but inside, you're already plotting how you’ll get through this.

May the heavens above help you.

As you stood outside the, admittedly stunning villa, you began to wonder whether you could brave sleeping outdoors for a week. The old French villa stands gracefully amidst lush gardens and towering trees, exuding an air of timeless elegance. Its weathered façade is adorned with intricate wrought-iron balconies and climbing vines. A cobbled pathway leads to an arched entrance adorned with a rustic wooden door. The entrance is flanked by tall windows with faded shutters, each window framed by ornate carvings that add a touch of sophistication.

As you step inside, the foyer unfolds, grand and established. A winding staircase leads upwards, and you can't even begin to imagine how damn expensive this place was.

The rooms are filled with antique furniture and large windows adorned with heavy curtains that allow dappled sunlight to filter through, casting a warm glow on the Persian rugs that cover the floor.

Nevermind. You could tolerate it.

The group of you stand in the foyer, looking around.

“Well shit…” Mattheo murmurs under his breath, looking around. You agree with him. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how wealthy your friends were. It felt almost alienating, somehow. The rest of them seemed accustomed to such luxuries, it seemed only Mattheo and yourself weren't.

“Right. There are two en suites and two regular rooms. Blaise and I will have the first ensuite, and You and Theodore get the other. It's all the way on the top floor.” Pnays says, and you nod, insides churning at the reminder of having to share a room with Theodore. You don't even turn to look at him.

“How come you two get en suites?” Mattheo complains, and Pansy turns to him, rolling her eyes.

“Because you dimwit, we need privacy for changing. We can't exactly just strip naked in front of Blaise and Theodore.” Pansy pointed out, motioning between yourself and her.

You loved Pansy, you really did, but why did she have to word it like that? You groan internally, shaking your head.

“I'm sure they'll be doing it anyway..” Lorenzo mumbles to you, and you snicker as you look over at Blaise and Pansy. Agreeing to meet downstairs in an hour to order food, you all make your way up to your respective rooms.

You hurl your suitcase up the steps, hyper-aware of Theodore walking just behind you. You climb up the first set of stairs and look up. A solid three more sets to go.

What the hell? 4 floors and 4 bedrooms? What kind of architectural fuck up was this? It seemed now like you had bricks in your bag because the task of getting up those remaining three flights of stairs seemed near impossible.

You pulled out of your mini crisis embarrassingly quick as fingers brushed against yours. You spin around, spotting Theodore. He's reaching down for your bag, and he looks up, eyes meeting yours.

You hated him.

You loved him.

You loathed him.

You didn't know which one mattered more.

“Let me take it.” He offers, clearing his throat, and suddenly you've lost the ability to speak.

You nod in agreement, too caught off guard by the unexpected gesture to form coherent words. Theodore effortlessly lifts the suitcase as if it were weightless, and you watch the play of muscles beneath his shirt as he ascends the staircase with ease.

You berate yourself for being so shameless.

You follow him, trying to shake off the strange mix of emotions swirling within you. Your thoughts are a whirlwind as you reach the landing, now standing just outside the door of your shared room.

"Thanks," you manage to mumble, avoiding eye contact as Theodore sets your suitcase down inside the room. He nods in acknowledgement, his expression unreadable.

As you enter the room, you're greeted by a quaint and cosy little room. Luckily, there are two separate beds, though they are pushed together to form one larger one. You'll be sure to move them apart.

Theodore clears his throat, breaking the silence. "I guess this is our room for the trip," he remarks, a half-smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah," you reply, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The air between you two is charged with unspoken tension, and the weight of the realisation settles in. Fate, it seems, had a peculiar sense of humour.

"Listen, about earlier," Theodore starts, his gaze searching yours, but you cut him off swiftly.

“Don’t. There's nothing to talk about.” You say, brushing past him as you walk into the room. You have your back faced to him, face bright red as you begin unpacking, actions more forceful than you intended them to be.

Theodore remains silent for a moment, respecting your need for space. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you as you unpack, each movement deliberate and almost aggressive.

You hear Theodore take a deep breath behind you, and then he speaks, his voice breaking, tinged with an underlying vulnerability. "Please. Just, look at me." He pleads.

You clench your jaw, your hands gripping the edges of your suitcase. You turn around, meeting his gaze with a steely expression.

You swear your heart breaks. He’s frowning, and he looks on the verge of tears.

Stupid. This was so, so stupid.

“Look. Nothing is going on. Nothing happened, ok? I'm fine.” You say, though it's a blatant lie. You grab your sweater and book, considering pushing past him again on your way out as you speak.

You don't want to carry on like this. It hurt.

“Yeah, sure," Theodore replies, his voice now strained and forced into an artificial calm. "Nothing happened."

You want to believe it, to believe that you can bury the complicated mess of emotions that surged to the surface earlier. As you step into the hallway, you take a deep breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Theodore follows suit, and together you make your way downstairs to join the others. The air is thick with tension, but the group seems oblivious, immersed in arguments over food.

Pansy looks at you curiously, her keen eyes noting the shift in dynamics, but she chooses not to pry. Blaise seems absorbed in his thoughts, Lorenzo is engaged in animated conversation with Mattheo, and Draco appears indifferent to the subtle changes in the atmosphere.

No one notices anything, and you're very convinced it's because nothing really existed in the first place. You walk over to where Matteho is sitting on the sofa and take a seat next to him. He wraps an arm around you, drawing you in close as he continues speaking to Lorenzo.

“Hey, stimp.” Mattheo says, rubbing your arm as he looks down at you.

Sidenote: The nickname stimp originated from when Pansy had gone through a phase of calling everyone ‘stink’. You had no idea what she was saying and thought she was calling everyone stimp. You were relentlessly tormented by the group for thinking so, and it's stuck since then (courtesy of Mattheo.)

“Hey.” You mumble into his chest. He chuckles, fiddling with your hair lightly as he goes back to his conversation with Lorenzo.

Your mind (as it so often did) lingers back to Theodore. Your stomach aches because of it.

He's a tempest, a tempest that lingers in the recesses of your soul, tearing through the tranquillity with an unrelenting force.

You're weary, though these past few days with Theodore have made you constantly feel that way. You become tuned out from the conversations of your friends, feeling oddly like a spectator.

Your eyes grow heavy, and whether it's to your dismay or relief, you fall asleep with Theodore on your mind.

You could have sworn you fell asleep in the living room, curled into Mattheo. So when your eyes flicker open, and you're blinking wearily, sitting up in your bed, you're heavily disoriented.

A sleepy groan escapes your lips as you gingerly sit up, looking around. Theodore is lying in his bed, and you're very quickly aware of the fact that he separated them.

His eyes flicker over to yours at the sound of you stirring, a book loosely held in his hands.

Your eyes flicker down to the cover of the book and you're surprised at how quickly you feel sick again. It was getting rather tiring, really.

How long was he reading for? Was he thinking of you as he read? Did he read and look over at you?

“I saved some food for you.” He says after a beat. He looks at you, as though he wants to say more, and you see the conflict in his mind. He looks back down, and you feel slightly disappointed.

“Thanks.” You croak quietly, gingerly slipping out of bed. You sit on the edge for a second, back facing Theodore as you orient yourself for a bit before you slide on some slippers. You yawn and get up, tossing the covers back as you make your way downstairs. You blindly grope the walls as you warily descend the stairs in the pitch-black darkness, praying you didn't send yourself tumbling down.

Your fingers brush against a light switch and you let out a small sigh of relief as you flick the lights on.

God, how late was it?

You finally manage to stumble into the kitchen, the warm lights illuminating the otherwise barren place. The house is silent, and you assume it must be very late, judging by the way your friends (who almost exclusively lived between the hours of 11:00 - 02:00) were not awake. You shouldn't be eating at this time, especially because you planned to sleep right after, but you were starving and hadn't eaten prior.

You open what you assume to be the fridge (because god forbid rich people be like the rest of us and have normal-looking things), and see two small containers and a pizza box. You're impressed Draco (who though incredibly slender seemed to have the appetite of a growing giant) hadn't eaten it yet. You open the pizza box first and feel immediately better when you see the order. It's exactly what you like, there's garlic butter on the crust, and olives on every slice. There are tomatoes but it's on the side because you hate cooked tomatoes, and there's your favourite sauce as well (Blaise almost cried bloody murder when he saw you dipping your pizza in mayo a few years ago. You swore it was good.)

With a small smile on your face, you peer into the other two containers. One is full of strawberries, and your mouth waters.

You absolutely adored strawberries, and these looked plump and fresh, a far cry from the sad little things you'd get in Hogsmeade, on rare occasions. You can't resist biting into one and letting out a small groan of satisfaction as you do.

This had to be what heaven felt like, surely. You swore these alone could make you ascend. You pull out the container and snack on some, looking up as you hear the sound of footsteps approaching. Pansy yawns as she saunters into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. She's evidently sleepy, reaching for a glass of water as she speaks.

“You're finally up.” She mumbles groggily, leaning against the counter.

You nod.

“Woke up a few minutes ago. Thank you for ordering some pizza for me. You got it spot on.” You say with a small smile, and Pansy dismisses you with a small flick of her hand, as she sets the glass down.

“Oh no no, it wasn't me. We all ordered some sushi because Blaise knew a place. Theodore went out and got all that for you. He disappeared for like three bloody hours and we thought he got kidnapped or something. Turns out it’s very hard to find a good pizza place here.” Pansy says.

You blink in surprise at Pansy’s revelation. You have to stop yourself from dropping your jaw because you couldn't deal with her question right now, especially because…

What the fuck?

Why? How?

Why?

You can barely comprehend Theodore could remember all those things about you. Little things that you yourself wouldn't even notice. By the looks of it even your closest friend, Pansy, didn't even know that.

He went out of his way to get that for you?

It's an odd mixture of emotions — appreciation, confusion, and a tinge of frustration. Frustration because he was being so damn confusing. Ignoring you but then knowing everything about you. Not talking to you and then confessing he's been searching for you in everything he does. Remaining distant but doing things that made your heart flutter and guilt flood your being.

Pansy is watching you intently, ever observant. She gives you a once over, eyebrows furrowing ever so lightly.

“Night then.” She says, turning back to go to her room.

Even Pansy, who was ever known for being careless and prying, knew right now that this was something that went so much further than her best friend having a silly crush on someone. She didn’t need to know the history between you and Theodore to know this was something serious, and her reserved and understanding behaviour only seemed to scare you more. You remain staring off for a second as she retreats before you close the container, slipping it back into the fridge

(You'd hex Draco's teeth onto his toes if he dared to touch them.)

You make your way back up to your room, and by the time you enter Theodore is no longer reading, rather he's asleep in his bed.

His bedside lamp is off, but yours is on. You look at him for a second, and you're grateful that he's asleep because you didn't know what to say, or how to face him. You quietly retreat into the bathroom, washing your face and brushing your teeth before slipping back into the bedroom. You slip under the covers of your bed, tugging the blanket over you as you sink into the infuriatingly comfy mattress (How you'd be able to find sleep again back at Hogwarts after this, you never knew. This made your dorm bed feel like you were sleeping on a slab of concrete. If this home isn't being used by Pansy and her family till the holiday, you seriously considered breaking in and living here in the meantime.)

You and Theo are sleeping on opposite sides of the room, backs facing away from one another. Your bed is facing the window, which you're glad about because you couldn't sleep otherwise. A small voice in your mind questions if that was Theodore’s doing as well.

The silence is broken as you speak, words you only dare to utter because Theodore is asleep.

“Thank you.” You whisper, quietly.

Silence follows, and you let out a small breath because, of course, there's silence, Theodore is asleep. You find your own eyes drifting shut very quickly, slipping away into sleep.

You feel as though you're sinking, and you can't tell if it's because you're tired or spiralling.

In the quiet darkness, you find yourself teetering on the cusp of sleep. You're in that nearly there phase, where you feel simultaneously weightless and heavy. You're half-conscious, dreams blurring the line of reality. You're drifting away, and you swear you hear a whisper, gentle and barely audible in a voice that sounds very similar to Theodore.

"Always."

@camille-1019

#harry potter #slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #theo #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson

261 notes · View notes